The Hag is astride,
This night for a ride,
Her wild steed and she together;
Through thick and through thin,
Now out, and then in,
Though ne'er so foul be the weather.
A thorn or a burr
She takes for a spur;
With a last of a bramble she rides now,
Through brakes and through briars,
O'er ditches and mires,
She follows the spirit that guides now.
No beast for his food
Dares now range the wood,
But hushed in his lair he lies lurking;
While mischief by these,
On land and on seas,
At noon or night are found working.
The storm will arise
And trouble the skies
This night; and, more for wonder,
The ghost from the tomb
Affrighted shall come,
Called out by the clap of the thunder.